Stella Dublin Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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Personal quirk—I’d prolly overthink it. Like, “Is she okay? What’s her story?” Too soft, maybe. Exaggeratin’ for drama—imagine me, Dr. Phil, stormin’ in, savin’ the day! “You’re better’n this, darlin’!” Ha! Ain’t that a riot? But real talk—findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic. It’s raw, risky, and—shit—kinda sad. Like Szpilman says, “I’m still here, still playin’.” They’re out there too, playin’ the game. Breaks my heart, y’all. How’s that workin’ for anybody?

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So, I hit the streets. First stop, Grafton Street. It’s buzzing, like always. Street performers everywhere, and I’m like, “Dude, I can’t even juggle my life, and you’re out here flipping fire?” I mean, come on! But I love it. The vibe is electric. I grab a coffee from Bewley’s. Best coffee in town, no cap.

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